


Vivacissimo (PG)

by daire



Category: Highlander - All Media Types
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 1998-04-07
Updated: 1998-04-07
Packaged: 2018-12-18 05:47:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,031
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11867973
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/daire/pseuds/daire
Summary: Note from Daire, the archivist: this story was originally archived atDaire's Fanfic Refuge. Deciding to give the stories a more long-term home, I began importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in August 2017. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address onDaire's Fanfic Refuge's collection profile.





	Vivacissimo (PG)

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Daire, the archivist: this story was originally archived at [Daire's Fanfic Refuge](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Daire%27s_Fanfic_Refuge). Deciding to give the stories a more long-term home, I began importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in August 2017. I e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact me using the e-mail address on [Daire's Fanfic Refuge's collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/dairesfanficrefuge/profile).

Vivacissimo - PG-13 version by Daire

| 

**Vivacissimo**

By Daire 

_Capo_

My life changed on an autumn afternoon in Paris. I had recently lost my older brother to cancer. Kurt was only 31, and the last of any close relatives. Three weeks after Kurt died, my best friend since fourth grade, Gina, was killed by a drunk driver. Then I lost my job with the Symphony from missing too many rehearsals and performances. I felt alone in the world. I needed some time away from everything familiar, so I headed to France. 

I was at a sidewalk cafe on the Champs-Elysees having lunch when I noticed him. I wondered why I hadn't seen him sooner. He was beautiful. I could barely take my eyes off him. Afraid of getting caught staring, I tried to get back to my meal. I failed, miserably. There was something mysterious about him. His features seemed to be chiseled out of stone. I love angularity in a man's face. 

His table was covered with ancient looking volumes and papers, his eyes barely leaving them. I scolded myself, _What are you doing? You know you're going to get caught._ Suddenly, his head slowly straightened upward, turning to look down the Champs-Elysees. I quickly averted my eyes to avoid any detection or contact. Taking my chances, I casually looked up and around stopping for an instant on this man. 

I glanced at his eyes, noticing a deep sadness. Before I knew it, he had delved back into his research. I had since finished my lunch. Not wanting to leave, I ordered some coffee and dessert. I desperately wanted to go over to him. Maybe it was my awful attempts at the French language, which I mutilated, that kept me in my chair. Fear or uncertainty of whether I wanted to approach the mystery that surrounded him also helped keep me rooted. Usually if I procrastinate long enough the opportunity passes by and there's nothing I can do about it. 

The waiter kept his coffee cup filled. It didn't seem like he was going to leave any time soon. He was looking up again, stretching his upper body to loosen up his muscles. That certainly made me stare. That's when I got caught. 

I felt like a child caught with their hand stuck in the cookie jar. Embarrassed, I smiled and attempted to nonchalantly go back to my coffee and people-watching. I did catch a slight, sly smile on his face as I looked away. I wanted to crawl under a rock, or somewhere else... 

When I finally summoned up enough courage to look back up, he was gone. _Opportunity only knocks once_ , I chided myself, _now he's gone._ But I could never forget that beautiful face. 

* * *

_Misterioso_

It was a few days later, I was taking some pictures of and around the Eiffel Tower when I spotted him in the viewfinder. My heartbeat felt as though it quadrupled. Instinctively, I snapped a picture as his head turned to my general direction. He seemed to be looking right at me, but through me. I kept my camera in front of my face, pretending to focus on an object behind him, hoping to shield myself from recognition. 

Then he started walking towards me, a look of recognition on his face. _My God, he's seen me,_ I thought. With surprising casualness, I remained calm on the outside. When he was about twenty feet away I heard a voice from behind me. 

"Adam, I'm glad I found you." Called a fifty-ish, grey-haired man with a beard and cane walked past me to "Adam." _Adam_ , I mulled it over in my head, _Adam, Adam_. It suited him well. 

"What's up Joe?" Not even noticing me. In a way, I was glad, but also disappointed. I proceeded to take pictures, seeming to mind my own business, but still eavesdropping, straining to hear their words as they moved away. 

"It's Duncan, he's..." and that was the last I heard as they moved out of earshot. I the did something I have never done in my life. I followed him. It felt as thought some unseen force was pulling me towards him. _Adam_. I couldn't get him off my mind. I followed them all the way to the Seine, keeping a safe distance, snapping pictures all the way. 

"It seems you have an admirer Methos. Wasn't she just at the Eiffel Tower?" 

"Maybe. I wasn't paying close attention. Just another tourist taking pictures. That sounds really suspicious, Joe." I retorted sarcastically. But I had lied to Joe. I had noticed her at the cafe. Her long brunette curls spilling over her shoulders and down her back, the deep brown eyes, slender legs, toned arms, how I'd love to.... _Snap out of it. You've got more important things to take care of_ , I told myself. "Is she a Watcher?" 

"Could've fooled me. Especially the way you're looking at her now. And she's been eyeing you since leaving the Tower. I'm not aware of her being a Watcher." 

Watchers were so damned observant sometimes. "I can't look? I don't have time for anything else with this Ahriman supposedly upon us and coming after MacLeod." We both became silent at the memory of Duncan taking Richie's head only the week before. I was dealing with it better than Joe. I had seen 5,000 years of losing friends, mortal and Immortal alike. It was the fact that Richie still had youthful innocence, and Duncan had take his life that bothered me. Even though we live a different life than mortals, he should have had a good number of years ahead of him. I knew it wasn't Duncan's fault directly, the Evil had overcome him, not letting him tell what was real and what wasn't. 

Joe could barely keep the grief off his face. Richie was like a son to him. Troublesome and stubborn, but still a good kid. He never thought he'd outlive Richie. Even worse was knowing Duncan did it. After the Quickening, Duncan could barely believe what he'd done. The last straw had finally broken the camel's back. Duncan wanted nothing more to do with The Game. Tessa, Sean Burns, Fitzcairn, Little Deer and Kahani, and now Richie, were all dead because of The Game. 

"You can't stop thinking about her can you?" 

"Who?" I glanced over to where I last saw her, but she wasn't there. 

"You know damn well who I mean. That 'everyday tourist' you keep looking at." Caught like a deer in the headlights, I couldn't say a word, silently acquiescing my guilt. "She is quite striking, Methos. Maybe you should go talk to her." 

"I thought you wanted my help with MacLeod? If she's followed me this long, she won't go very far." Somberly, we headed into the Barge. 

They seemed to be discussing something important. I furtively followed them from the Tower to the Seine, stopping here and there to put some distance between us and look like a tourist. Not paying close enough attention, I stumbled upon them, almost literally, on the riverfront. I was walking under a bridge, rather hurriedly, having lost sight of them when they left street level, when I looked up and saw them standing in front of a barge. I stopped dead in my tracks. 

With luck, the darkness under the bridge and my dark clothes gave me some camouflage. Slowly, I stepped back the way I had come, hoping they were engrossed enough in their conversation not to notice me. They didn't seem to. 

I crouched down just inside the darkness of the bridge and took the lenscap off my camera. I lifted it to my eyes, got Adam in the viewfinder, focused it, and snapped the picture. How could he stand to wear that long trenchcoat on such a warm day? I would have been roasting. I turned around quickly to muffle the sound of my film rewinding. 

When I turned back around Adam was standing in a certain stance that made me yearn for him. I don't know why, it just struck me as very sexy. He kept glancing up to the street, expecting or hoping to see someone or something up there. Each time, a little hint of disappointment crossed his face. _Could he be looking for me? Yeah, right. He doesn't even know I exist._ Then they vanish from sight into the barge. _Damn. I wonder how long he'll be in there._ After half an hour, I was getting hungry and thirsty, and sought out a cafe or something, anything. 

About two blocks away I found a bakery. I had some lemonade and a pastry. I'm not sure what it was, but it was chocolate, and that was a good enough reason as any. I took out a book I had brought along for the plane trip and airport waits. For the first hour I barely paid attention to the book, looking up once in a while to see if Adam would appear. Then the book became interesting and time got away from me. 

I still had half my pastry left, absorbed in my book about another hour later when he found me. I had stopped briefly, closing my eyes, giving them a rest. I was letting the sunshine on my face when I heard a voice with an accent I couldn't place, sort of a melange of the world's languages. 

_Scherzoso_

"You haven't finished your pastry." I looked up, half startled, and there stood 'Adam.' I couldn't get my voice to work, to sputter out even a "Hello." He was even more striking up close. I just stared at him like a half-wit. "Can you talk? _Parlez vous Francais?_ " 

"I speak English, you just took me by surprise is all." Forget finishing the pastry, there were better things I could think of to do with it. 

"I find that hard to believe. I noticed you following me." 

"What? I wasn't following you!" I lied like a rug. I knew he could see right through me. I hoped he didn't call my bluff. I didn't hope enough. 

"You just happened to follow...sorry, wrong word...um, take the same route off the beaten tourist path?" His eyes seemed to look straight into my soul, daring me to lie again, but still dancing with the delight of catching me. I took the dare. 

"I figured a Parisian would do just that. I wanted more than the typical tourist flavor. I tried not to intrude on anything personal." Why I said "Parisian," I don't know, he didn't strike me as a native Parisian. I still couldn't place his accent to a specific place. I found it very intriguing. 

"What did you hear?" 

"Nothing that seems of importance. Just your friend saying something about 'Duncan.'" 

"Anything else?" 

"No, why?" He seemed kind of edgy at the mention of Duncan. 

"If I told you, I'd have to kill you. And that would be a shame. So, what brings you to Paris?" 

"In that case I don't want to know. Why should I tell you why I'm here? I don't even know you." 

"What would you like to know?" 

What wouldn't I like to know, is the question. "How 'bout starting with your name and why you're so interested in me." 

"Somehow, I think you already know my name. Its Adam Pierson, and I could ask you the same thing. You've peaked my interest." 

_Please don't ask me why I'm interested in you, please._ "I told you, I was just looking to get off the beaten path." 

"Why do I still not quite believe you? You have this funny look in your eyes." 

A funny look in my eyes? What the hell was that supposed to mean? "What do you mean by that?" 

"Well, I see intrigue, sadness, mystery...a complicated soul. By the way, I didn't catch your name?" I couldn't read a thing but a life shrouded in mystery in his eyes, or he hid things well. Oh, those eyes. Not to mention the rest of him. Without warning, I had become aroused. 

"I never threw it." I retorted playfully, if not lamely. "Its Cairenn Chasdubh."* 

"That's an unusual name; means...Cairenn of the dark curly hair." Little did I know just how unusual his real name was. "I'd say it was Gaelic." 

"You're right. How did you know that?" No one outside of Ireland seemed to have ever heard my name before, curious he pinned it on the nose. There was something really mysterious about him. Did I ever want to find out what it was? 

"I know a Scotsman who still mutters in Gaelic sometimes, and I spent some time in Ireland when I was younger." Like 3,759. Why do we have to keep up this silly banter? I would just love to take her home and... "Would you like to have dinner with me?" She looked totally shocked as if I had just told her I was a serial killer. Bad analogy, Methos. 

"If you answer one question?" 

"Hmmm?" 

"Why are you wearing a trenchcoat on a warm day?" 

"Protection." As the next question began to form, I stopped it, "Never mind what from. Where shall I pick you up?" 

"I'm staying at the Rue St. Anne Hotel." 

"Be ready at seven." _Ready for an incredible night._

_Incalzando_

I was ready by six-thirty. That last half hour before Adam came dragged on forever it seemed. I thought I was going to burst from anticipation. I had this burning desire to be with him. Part of it could be that I had lost too many people in my life and no one close to me anymore. Was I looking for someone to replace them, or was I just going totally insane? I hadn't had a whole lot of time for a personal life once Kurt got sick. Not to mention the lack of a love life. 

Finally, a knock on the door. My heart instantly started beating double-time, my palms started to sweat, and all those good things that come along with anxiety. I took a little extra time getting to and answering the door, not to seem too anxious. When I opened the door, Adam was there with his head cocked to one side. 

"Ready?" he asked. Boy was I ever. That accent only drove me wilder. 

"Sure am, starving." We headed out to the restaurant, Simone's. We talked about everything. I told him about Kurt and Gina. I found out a friend of Duncan and his died the week before, Richie. So we were both dealing with the loss of someone. I think that brought us a little closer, the understanding and sympathy of what the other was going through. When we had finished dinner, we went walking around the city, and ended up at his flat. 

* * *

_Crescendo_

"Would you like to come in for some coffee perhaps?" 

Hesitantly, and with reservations, and barely thinking about any consequences, I told him yes. After all, it was just for coffee. 

He had gotten the coffee all but poured into the cup, when I decided I needed something stronger. I couldn't believe I was in some strange guy's flat, when I hadn't even known him for 24 hours. "Um, actually Adam, do you have anything stronger?" I really needed something to take the edge off. I normally wasn't one to turn to alcohol. 

"Stronger, hmmm? How about some scotch whiskey? I usually keep it around for a friend of mine." 

"Just a jigger or two, please." He handed me the scotch and I took a sip, savoring its flavor, as Adam studied me. 

"At least you don't knock it straight back like MacLeod." 

"Who? Oh, you're friend, Duncan." 

"Yeah. No need to mention him tonight." Adam sat down next to me on the couch as I finished the scotch and handed me a cup of coffee. "Usually, I'd offer a beer, but you don't strike me as a beer drinker." 

"No, but feel free to have one yourself." I don't think he could have gotten up any faster. He came back with a brand I'd never heard of, it must have been something cheap. We sat in an awkward silence for what seemed an eternity. Then, without warning, I felt a hand on my upper thigh. Startled, it caused me to spill what was left of my coffee all over my shirt. 

"Oh my, I'm sorry." he sputtered. "Let me help you with that" I think we both saw the same opportunity at that moment. At least my shirt was black, and the coffee stain wouldn't matter. 

* * *

_Passionato_

I set the cup on the end table and grabbed a couple of napkins to wipe what I could off myself. Adam helped, with more than cleaning. He started kissing my neck and worked up to my mouth. My shirt had been forgotten, except to get it off. He kissed me deeply, his hands holding my head. 

Adam moved his hand down to my breast, and I moved to unbutton his shirt. He unhooked my bra, and I unbuttoned his pants. 

"Are you sure you want to do this?" he asked. 

_Was I sure?? Goodness, yes._ "Yes." I responded, breathlessly, yearning for him as much as he was for me. At that, it was almost a race to get the rest of our clothes off. We left a trail of clothes from the living room to his bed. The last things off were his blue boxers. That wasn't the only thing blue, I spotted a canister of blue frosting tucked away on the nightstand. I couldn't suppress my curiosity. "What's with the blue frosting?" 

"You'll find out in time, but not tonight." There were going to be other times? I couldn't believe what I was feeling. It had been so long since I'd made love to anyone. The whole world and all the stress fell away as we became the only two people in the universe. 

* * *

As we laid there, I still wondered what he meant about there being other times. I was getting on a plane in twelve hours, probably never to see Europe again. 

* * *

_Lusingando_

"You've got gorgeous toes." I told him. "Now put some socks and clothes on. Let's take a walk." 

"A walk? Its 2 A.M." 

"Exactly. Most everyone is home asleep. Less people on the streets, Paris virtually to ourselves." 

"That's not always a good thing." 

"You'll protect me won't you?" I asked docilely, batting my eyes. 

"Of course. How could I not?" 

"Good, then get dressed." 

* * *

_Forzando_

The moon and stars were out as we walked down towards and along the Seine; it was a nice night. It was on the cooler side, especially by the water, and I didn't have anything all that warm on. Adam offered me his jacket, but I said I was comfortable. Who needed a warm jacket when he could warm me up later? 

"So what would you like to do during the rest of your stay?" 

"Oh, I don't know." I could think of a number of things to occupy the time. My thoughts were interrupted by a noise ahead of us in the shadows. "Did you hear that, Adam?" 

"Probably just a cat or some animal scrounging for food." A minute later, the 'cat' came out of the shadows and demanded our money and jewelry. 

"We don't have anything on us." Adam told him. 

"Then maybe I should take the value from the pretty lady?" he suggested sneeringly. 

"You're not going to touch her." 

"Defending the lady's honour are we? I don't think so." The thief took a step towards me but Adam stepped between us and put his hand up to the guy's chest. 

"I said you're not going to touch her." 

"I would take your hand away from me Monsieur." 

"It's a little late for politeness don't you think? I'm not moving until you turn to head the other way and not let us see your face again." 

"I don't think so." The thief quickly withdrew a switchblade and lunged at Adam. Adam blocked the strike with his arm and incurred a deep wound on his upper arm in the process. Adam in turn reacted by trying to force the guy to the ground. After a short scuffle, they both froze, staring at each other. In what seemed a millennium, I waited to see who had been injured. That was the only possible outcome for their sudden halt. 

* * *

_Dolente_

Suddenly, the thief jumped up, slowly and then faster, ran away. I looked down at Adam. The switchblade still in his chest. I stood in awe. 

"Oh my God! Adam! Hold on, I'll get help--" 

"No, its fatal. Besides...no one...will come out...to help..." 

"Just hold on, you'll be alright." I kneeled down and propped his head in my lap. I yelled for help. 

"Don't bother. Will you trust me?" 

"For what?" 

"Do you?" 

"I guess. Why?" 

"Damn. Don't do anything. Just wait. I'll be back." With a wince of pain, he pulled the blade from his chest and with one last breath, died. 

* * *

_Subito_

_Just my luck,_ I thought to myself, _I meet a nice guy and he gets killed._ I didn't know what I had to trust a dead man about. His last words echoed in my mind. _I'll be back._

Just when I was going to get up and find a gendarme, Adam's body jerked and he drew in a deep breath. In surprise, I fell backwards onto the ground and stared at him. "What the hell are you? You were dead." As quickly as he had died, he had come back to life. 

"Believe me, I know. I guess you have a few questions." 

"A few? You better believe it." 

"We should go somewhere a little more private. Your place or mine?" 

"Which is closer? If I've got bearings right, my hotel is closer. Let's go." I helped him up and we headed to my hotel. 

As soon as the door was shut, he blurted out the words that made me doubt my sanity. "I'm Immortal. I can't die--" 

"But I saw you die." 

"There is only one _permanent_ way I can die. If I lose my head." He proceeded to tell me everything else about Immortals, Watchers, and The Game. It was making my head swim. 

"So what is your _real_ name, and how old are you?" 

"Most know me as Adam Pierson. I'm not sure its quite time to tell you my real name. Let's say I've seen a couple millennia pass." 

"Let me get this straight, you're an Immortal and a Watcher?" 

"They don't know I'm Immortal. Only a few people know the truth about me. Except for one, the Watchers don't. And I intend to keep it that way." 

"What do you do with the Watchers?" 

"Research. Currently I'm working on the Methos Chronicles. An Immortal said to be 5,000 years old, still alive, and a legend. No one has heard from him in a long time." 

"Have you found him yet?" 

"Unfortunately, no." I couldn't believe that the body of a young man could be hundreds of years old. 

I put the pieces together. "You're researching your own life." I stated. 

"Why not? There are a number of Immortals who would want the head of the oldest of them all. What better way to keep my head than make sure no one finds Methos?" 

"How do you cope with it. Knowing everyone wants your head, you don't age, and seeing us mortals die? One of our lives must be like a heartbeat for you." 

"We just do." 

"Your friend Duncan, and the one that just died, are like you aren't they?" 

"Yep." He told me some more about them until I couldn't absorb anymore. 

I waved my hand for him to stop. "This is too amazing, I don't believe this. Even though I saw it happen before my eyes, its incredible." I needed time to let this all sink in, a lot of time. The sun was beginning to come up and I realize I needed breakfast. 

* * *

_L'istesso tempo_

We had just about finished our breakfast without another word said about Immortality or the Watchers when Adam asked if I would ever back in France. I told him I doubted it, at least not in the near future. I had to go home and find a new job since the Symphony fired me. "So, I guess I'll have to come visit you. Unless..." 

"Unless what?" 

"You seem to be good at observing," he remarked with a slight smirk. "What would you say if you were offered a job as a Watcher?" 

"Me a Watcher?" 

"Of course. And you'd have the added bonus of being able to travel the world." 

"Anywhere?" 

"The only pre-requisites are than you can speak, be inconspicuous, and can keep your mouth shut." 

"So your telling me about this organization is against the rules?" 

"Only if you say no. And I hope you won't. Another advantage would be that the Watcher Headquarters are here in France." 

"Oh really? An advantage for you or me?" 

"Both of us. So what do you say?" 

"Well, my French isn't that hot. I'll have to think about it." 

"What's to think about? You said yourself you've got nothing to go back to in the States. Think of it as a new beginning." 

"Its not that simple. I can't just make a snap decision like that, and all this needs to sink in first." We sat in silence for a while before I had to go back to my room to pack and get ready for my flight home. Adam offered to take me to the airport. No more was said about the Watchers until the last moment before I boarded the plane. 

"Think about it, and let me know. You have an assignment and position with them if you want it." I stared at him, dumbfounded. I had no idea he had gone ahead and gotten me a position without a definitive answer from me. 

"What!?" I exclaimed. 

"You heard me. Call it foresight." The last boarding call was made and I had no time to say anything else. As I walked down the gangway, I heard him again, "Let me know." 

* * *

_Solenne_

Home, sweet home. 

Now I needed to find a job. _Tomorrow._ I needed sleep after that long plane trip. I slept for a good twelve hours. When I finally woke up it seemed my whole trip to Paris had been a dream. Maybe this Watcher gig wouldn't be so bad. I was thinking more seriously about it each time I gave it thought. There would be variety in day to day tasks; I could still play professionally; and more contact with Adam. 

Around eight o'clock the phone rang. Before I could even get a hello out, a familiar voice prodded "Well, have you decided yet?" 

"Adam, I've been home less than 24 hours. I need to see what I can find employment-wise first. By the end of the week I should have a better idea of what I'll do." Even though I was leaning heavily towards answering yes right then, I didn't want to rush into such a huge decision. 

"Just as long as you don't decide to go to the press about Immortals." he chided. 

"I wouldn't think of it. I would have to keep my mouth shut, remember?" 

"Okay then, I'll look forward to your call by the end of the week, right?" 

"If you haven't heard from me, assume the answer is 'no'." 

"Ah, never assume, it makes an ass out of you and me." 

"Presume then. Look, I gotta go. Bye." I hung up the phone as I heard him say good-bye. 

* * *

_Sospirando_

The next day I got every newspaper in town and spent a number of hours on the Internet looking for any musical position. No one was hiring anywhere close by. The Symphony wouldn't hire me back since they already filled my seat. It seemed the market for musicians wasn't lacking at the moment. Not even schools were hiring teachers. And starting a private instruction practice would take too long before I gathered enough repertoire for enough students to pay the bills. 

By the end of the week I was at my wits end. There were no jobs nearby, and if I was going to move and uproot myself, why not start all anew? I decided to take the Watcher position. 

_Trionfale_

"Adam? God, I hate answering machines..." Before I could finish there was a knock at the door. "Its Cairenn, give me a call when you get a chance." Whoever it was at the door was rather impatient. "I'm coming, I'm coming. Geez, gimme a second." 

"Hello. Bad time?" 

"Adam!? What are you doing here?" 

"I thought I'd come and help you pack." 

"How do you know I'm going anywhere? You don't even know that I've found a job yet." 

"I think you have but just haven't accepted yet." 

"I've known people for 5,000 years, and I'm a Watcher remember? I have my ways and I can guess peoples' actions. So what do you say?" 

"As long as you don't tell me 'I told you so,' the answer is yes." 

"Good, then we'll get you packed and then stop for some blue frosting." 

_Fine_

* * *

_Footnotes and Terms_

* Cairenn Chasdubh: (KAW-ran Kahs-DOOV) Cairenn of the Dark Curly Hair; I am guessing on the pronunciation of the last name, going by pronunciations from other Gaelic names. 

Credit goes to tree of the Methos Harem for creating the blue frosting thread. You can find the story in The Harem Chronicles. 

_Terms:_

_Capo_ = beginning
_Misterioso_ = mysterious
_Scherzoso_ = playfully
_Incalzando_ = increasing speed, with an implication of increasing tone
_Crescendo_ = gradual increase
_Passionato_ = passionately
_Lusingando_ = in a coaxing style
_Forzando_ = forcing, a sudden accent
_Dolente_ = sadly
_Subito_ = suddenly
_L'istesso tempo_ = the speed of the beat remains the same although the notation changes
_Solenne_ = solemn
_Sospirando_ = sighing
_Trionfale_ = triumphant
_Fine_ = end

* * *

© 1997-98   
Please send comments to the author! 

04/07/1998 

Moyra's Web Jewels 

* * *  
  
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